


A Typical Week

by FatlockFills



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Control Kink, Disordered Eating, Emotional Eating, Fatlock, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Manipulation, Stress Eating, Weight Gain, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:49:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatlockFills/pseuds/FatlockFills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic request : when John's under stress he eats. Sherlock makes sure to stress him out as often as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Typical Week

**Monday:**

"YOU UNPLUGGED THE FREEZER!" 

"I needed the outlet!"

"You ruined all this food! I’m going to have to cook all this TONIGHT, did you realize that?"

"Eating. Boring." 

**Tuesday:**

"She’s still seeing her old boyfriend off and on. She doesn’t really care about you, but she does think you’re a step up—good job, respectable name, and all that. You’re a stepping stone, and all that."

"I’m going to the pub." 

"Drinking to cope with your problems?"

"No! They’ve got a special on!" 

"I thought you got dinner with Spots."

The sound of a door slamming was the only sound in the flat. 

**Wednesday:**

John couldn't see the scorch marks on the table when he covered them with take out boxes. It took a lot of boxes. He had to unbutton his trousers to finish. 

**Thursday:**

"Your brother dragged me all over London! Wouldn’t tell me why, didn’t let me see you, it was insanity!"

"He’s so terrible. Here, don’t yell, I got us a takeaway." 

"We had takeaway last night."

"Who wants the stress of cooking on top of everything else?" 

John sighs, and balances the carton on his belly as he eats, nestling it against his softening pecs. 

**Friday:**

Sherlock took over his blog again, posted all sorts of things about them, and generally made a nuisance of himself. John deserves to pound pints and help himself to the buffet from 5 to 8. And he does, at a steady pace that leaves him uncomfortable the whole ride home. Usually he’d walk, but not tonight. 

**Saturday:**

The day was going perfectly. No stress, just a rainy Saturday in with telly and his laptop. Then the telly went out. A 30 minute shouting match with the service later, and John was eating one grilled cheese while he made a third, the second cooling on his plate next to the generous portion of chips he’d fried up. 

**Sunday:**

John bent over, and the seat ripped out of his trousers. Sherlock laughed, one bark that caused John to jump up, face beet red, and grab the plate of biscuits right out of Sherlock’s hands. He ate the entire thing in twenty minutes and went back for more, his pajama elastic digging into his softer sides.


End file.
